Marks on the Skin
by FlickerInTheDark
Summary: AU in which Cosette discovers why lies beneth her father's sleeves. Somewhat fluffy and ONESHOT


**A/N: Sorry It has been a hot minute since I have posted anything! Please enjoy and** **Be sure to favorite, follow or both!**

I remember the first time I mentioned tattoos to papa. We had been to the mall and I saw a man with an arm full of brightly inked pictures. "Papa, aren't they pretty?"

"Come along Cosette," he said paying for my new shoes and I quickly forgot about the man because papa bought me ice cream on the way home.

When I was a bit older, maybe 9, I mentioned how I thought tattoos were cool when we passed a woman with a giant tiger on her left arm. Papa scolded me saying, "No Cosette. They aren't just cool, they have deep significance and should not be had on a whim."

I didn't understand what he meant. I thought I had said something innocent but apparently, it meant so much more to him. That night when I said I was going to bed he called from the living room, "Cosette could you please come here."

I went over and he patted the place next to him on the couch. When I sat down he said, "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I realize you didn't mean anything by it. Can you forgive this old man for jumping to conclusions?"

"Papa, you're not old!" I exclaimed.

"Maybe not," he laughed, "But do you forgive me?"

"Of course papa!" I said smiling and giving him a hug.

"Alright. That's my good girl. Have a good night dear," he said kindly as I got up to go to bed.

In bed I thought about what he had said. _Jumping to conclusions? What conclusions?_ I wondered what Papa had been thinking about earlier that had made him that way. Very few things could upset him and the fact the mere ideas of tattoos caused these reactions from him surprised me. The only time he had taken that tone of voice with me was when I had bolted into a street and a car had almost hit me.

About a week later he was working on the car. When we had gone to Church this past Sunday the car had been making a rattling noise. I had a half-day at school so I walked home as I usually did. I suppose he forgot about this because when he looked up and had his sleeves rolled up. I could see things on his arms. It wasn't clear because he had grease everywhere but he definitely had something on his arms. But in the same instant I saw them, he pulled his sleeves back down and said, "Oh! Right it is a half-day! Completely slipped my mind! Thank goodness I was here."

"I would have been fine. You gave me a spare key and I know what do. Don't worry," I said coming over to get a closer look at his now covered arms.

"I know you would be alright but I cannot help but worry," he said kissing me on my forehead. It was only when I got inside that not only was this the first time I saw his arm but also the first time I had seen him without two or more layers.

Later that night, I was sitting at the kitchen table doing my spelling words. The word sleeves showed up and looked at Papa who was watching a documentary on exotic birds.

"Papa?"

He paused his show and turned around to look at me. "Yes? And what can I do for you?"

"Umm, I was just wondering something," I said chewing on my lip.

"Yes? What has my lark worried?"

"Not worried just a thought, " I said before summoning my courage and saying, "Papa, why don't you ever wear T-shirts?

Papa pursed his lips.

"Never mind," I said looking away. I clearly made him uncomfortable.

"No. I think we should talk about this," he said getting up and turning his documentary off. He moved one of the kitchen tables and sat down next to me.

"What do you want to know?" I found this sod. He was never one to freely give personal information out. It was always 'when you're older' or 'now's not the time" but right now seemed as though I was older and this was the time.

"Just as I said, I was wondering why you always wear sleeves or why you always wear a weather or jacket even when it is hot. I think today was the first time I can remember seeing your forearms. I see other dads pick their children up from school and they are just wearing T-shirts. You always wear a long sleeve dress shirts even if you haven't been somewhere," I said quickly.

Papa simply looked down and noticed my list of spelling words with _sleeves_ highlighted took a deep breath in then letting it out slowly. I was frozen, I wasn't sure what he might do or say. I should never have brought this up because now he looked so sad.

"Cosette, I am about to show you something, but I you cannot tell anyone at school. Not your teachers, your friends or anyone. This is something very personal and to this day, it still has the ability to bring me to my knees," he said looking me square in the eye. He spoke as if I wasn't there, that he was telling this to someone else, someone much older and wiser.

He slowly removed his old yellow sweater and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled them up. I could see he had many tattoos. It looked like a biker's arm that I had seen once. It had so many images I didn't understand. I gasped slightly at this menagerie of shapes.

"Cosette, my youth wasn't spent happily. You know perfectly well that you have no aunts, uncles or grandparents and I am sure you have wondered why. Well, when I was younger I robbed a shop. My family was not receiving the financial help we needed and my sister's child was quite ill. So I broke into a convenience store to get her son some cough medicine and some fresh fruit. I was caught, went to prison and, unfortunately, I have never found my sister or my family despite my efforts to locate them," he said sadly.

"No," I simply said. I couldn't believe this.

"Yes. I was 26 at the time and hadn't finished high school. My family lived in a rough neighborhood and street gangs were common. For a bit I was in one even, see this one?" he said pointing to one with a string of number, _2-4-6-0-1,_ "That was my nickname of sorts, I don't know why but it what I remember being called for years. I was told in prison that my gang was going to help me escape. When the day came to try and run, no one was there and I was caught. I was in for 5 years originally for armed attempted robbery but after that attempt and my own foolish attempts to escape I ended up spending 19 years in that prison."

Tears came to my eyes. I could not believe such terrible news. I had always known papa to be just my papa. The idea he could have suffered was too much to handle.

"As you can see, my arms are covered in tattoos. Some of them are from my time in the gangs. Some are from prison, but this one," he said pulling his sleeve up further, "This one was my last and final tattoo."This tattoo simply read Fantine in cursive script and was inside a pair of broken handcuffs.

"That's my mama's name," I said dumbly.

"Yes, it is. When she passed, I knew that this was one of the most significant times of my life. All of my tattoos represent an era of my life and her name represents the final and most significant. That is how you came into my life," he said pulling his sleeves down and buttoning them.

"I-I don't know what to say, Papa," I said.

"There is nothing to say. But I hope you see why I keep these hidden. I do not want people to judge my life for what it was but rather what it is," he said standing up and leaving the room.

We never talked about it again until I was 18.

The day I turned 18 I felt no different than any other day but I knew today I was finally an adult. I had planned for weeks to do something secret.

I left early in the morning and left a note saying I would be back by noon and not to worry. I then got into my car and drove downtown. In 2 hours I came back to find my papa making crepes.

"Cosette! Happy Birthday! You left quite early this morning," he said coming over to hug me.

At that moment I had forgotten about the bandage on my shoulder and when I hugged him I made a slight squeak of pain.

"Cosette what's wrong?" he said pulling away and looking me over.

"Papa, I did something this morning and hope you will be happy about it," she said cautiously. Now was not the time I had wanted to reveal my little secret. But now was as good as time as any.

I took off my cardigan and under I was wearing a tank top. I turned around and there he could see the small tattoo on my right shoulder.

"What is that?" he said shakily. He removed the towel he had draped over his shoulder and began wringing it in his hands.

"It's a tattoo, papa. Aren't you happy?"

"Happy? What did I tell you about tattoos?" he said very slowly and quietly.

"Did you even look at it?" I asked.

He rubbed his eyes and walked out of the room. I was a bit shocked at his reaction, I mean I knew he would be surprised but I expected him to at least look. I went up to my room and began to Google tattoo removal.

An hour later I heard a knock at my door. I closed my laptop and got up to open the door. There my papa stood, a place of crepes with a birthday candle on top.

"May I come in?"

"Of course," I said while I stood to the side and he came in. He set the plate on my nightstand and sat down on my bed.

"I'm sorry Cosette for my less then…pleasant reaction. I was just a bit shaken by this decision you made."

"Papa, I thought about this for a really long time to be fair, since I was 16. I knew you would never let me get one before now so I waited. Maybe I shouldn't have shown you," I said quietly.

"No. You must never feel the need to hide something from me. I know how I just acted doesn't exactly set a good precedent but I was just a bit saddened to see your mar your perfect skin." He rubbed his right arm where I knew the Fantine tattoo sat.

"But papa, I don't think I ruined my skin. I wanted to pay tribute just as you have. Trust me, I saw plenty of guys get tattoos of their girlfriends and then break up with her months later. I made sure the name, her name, would never leave me because it never has."

He smiled sadly and said, "Would you please show me? I didn't get a good look while I… well over reacted."

I smiled and turned so he could see it. On my shoulder was my mother's name inside of the outline of a bird, a lark to be specific.

Tears came to his eyes instantly and he suppressed a gasp. He made a gesture as if to touch it but didn't. "Cosette…. that is beautiful."

I was about to respond when I noticed the pink candle in the crepes had melted down and began to singe the crepes.

"Ay! The crepes!" I yelped.

Papa made a quick move to take the plate and run into my bathroom where he doused the whole plate in water.

"Well, this morning has been quite exciting hasn't it?" he said looking at the plate with soggy crepes.

"It has. Shame those crepes looked delicious!"

"Why don't we just go out? I was never very good at making crepes was I?"

"Papa, don't say things like that! I like your crepes even if they are a bit crisp on the edges. But sure, let's go out." I picked up my purse again and we went down stairs.

After he washed up the plate and donned his customary sweater and hat we went out. The café was only 10 minutes away so we walked. He offered his arm to me like men did in those old films.

"Happy Birthday me little lark," he said looking at me and kissing my forehead.

"Thank you. And now mama will be here with the both of us so it really is a happy birthday indeed."


End file.
